Hope and The Bird
by the-warner-syndrome
Summary: A collection of prompts and stories revolving around Warner and Juliette, and sometimes their friends. Each story shows a glimpse of what might have happened if they had been in a different world, situation, or life. Because they know that, in the end, they'll always find a way back to one another. [ J/W and some A/OC. Occasional POV changes. Don't forget to RnR! ]
1. The World Is Ours

**TWS**: I had a hard time with this, so please be gentle with me (laughs). This was sent by Anon on tumblr. The prompt was to write a scene about what happens after the last chapter of IM, which actually makes me happy to write about seeing as I kept complaining on how short-lived and fast-paced the book was. I got the inspiration to write from this beautiful poem about stars.

Please leave a review! And if you want to send me a prompt you can PM me here, tell me in the reviews section, or you could PM me at aaron-warner on tumblr. Thanks!

**Disclaimer**: Characters, the first 7 lines of this prompt and the book itself all belong to Tahereh Mafi. Though I wouldn't mind claiming Warner if she were to give him away. _[ugly sobbing]_

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><p><strong>Prompt 1: The World Is Ours<strong>

He pulls himself up onto the roof and walks over to me, so steadily. Calm, like there's nothing in the world we'd planned to do today but stand here, together, looking over a field of dead bodies and happy children.

"Aaron," I whisper.

He pulls me into his arms.

And I fall.

Every bone, every muscle, every nerve in my body comes undone at his touch and I cling to him, holding on for dear life.

"You know," he whispers, his lips at my ear, "the whole world will be coming for us now."

I lean back. Look into his eyes.

"I can't wait to watch him try."

He smiles at my answer, dimple visible on both cheeks, eyes glistening with amusement and excitement—and a subtle hint of pride. "You'll have to take position as the Supreme Commander and reconstruct the chaos my father created."

"I know what I was getting myself into before I did this," I remind him, unwavering. A long time ago, when I was still scared and unknowing of my capabilities, maybe I would've cried and ran away if I found out that I was going to help thousands—millions of people. I'm still terrified of the idea, but I know that this is the right thing. This is what I want and I won't let anyone tell me otherwise.

Warner can see right through me.

"You'll have to explain yourself to the senate and convince the rest of the continent what you're worth," he says, his smile growing wider. I frown. "and you'll have to communicate with the other Supreme Commanders."

"Aaron…" I start. My life has suddenly returned to my body and I move away from him, unsure whether he's trying to scare me for fun or he's being serious.

"I wasn't kidding," he says. A pause. A breath. A gentle hand reaching out and covering my own, his thumb drawing lazy circles on my palm. "But we have all the time in the world to think of that. For now, for today, I want to spend this moment with you."

He brings my hand to his lips. Kisses the back of my hand, looking at me with such an intensity that it steals away every unnecessary thought inside my head. The ruins left from the war, the memory of Anderson, my fear for tomorrow. All of it is gone, stored away in a secret chest and thrown into the sunset in front of us.

My breath hitches in response, and I'm trying so hard to hate Warner for still making me feel this way. "Yes," I tell him, stumbling and running out of words to borrow from my head, "we do have all the time in the world."

He chuckles softly, pulling me closer until I could feel the unsteady rise and fall of his chest. It makes me wonder if everyone from below could hear how fast his heart is beating right now—how fast mine is right now because I can no longer hear them. The sounds of laughter and grief, hope and chances, are all gone and all I could hear is his voice and all I could see are his eyes and all I could feel is his lips on my neck, hand at the back of my head and the other around my waist. I want to taste him too, I think, and I do just that.

Warner pulls away before I could kiss him. His grin goes beyond wicked and I have never felt so frustrated with him in my entire life. I have ultimately decided that I hate Aaron Warner Anderson in these few seconds that pass between us.

"We have all the time in the world, remember?" he whispers, mischief laced in his voice, "besides, I wouldn't want to give your friends a show. At least, not for free."

"Oh," I say, blushing. I look down at the world below us. Everyone else has left, save for the few people who know exactly who I am. Lily and Winston are whistling and giving me thumbs-ups. Castle has his arms crossed, smiling at us. Adam and Alia are busy talking to each other, though I see Adam take a quick glance at us for a quick second. Kenji's standing beside James, whose eyes he's covering with his hand, and smiles at us.

"Did we interrupt you guys?" He shouts.

I want to kill him.

"Yes, you did," I shout back, surprising everyone but Kenji and James, who has managed to escape Kenji's grasp.

Kenji laughs and winks at me before gathering the rest of the group and moving them into someplace far, someplace safe. "Come on guys. Let's give the new leaders of the soon-to-be free world some space. I'd rather hear her talk about what's gonna happen here than be killed for not letting anything happen at all."

A pause. Then, "Stop looking so green, Kent. It's not your color."

I wait until all of them are gone from my sight before I turn to Warner, who's smiling and shaking his head. I can tell how hard he's trying not to roll his eyes.

"You tell Kishimoto everything that happens between us?"

"Not all of it," I say, embarrassed. The memory of my conversation with Kenji about seeing Warner in sweatpants clouded my head, and the one about my first time swarmed my thoughts. It's impossible to lie when Warner knows if I'm lying or not, and I'm not the best liar in the world.

"_Right_," he says so sarcastically that it makes _me_ roll my eyes.

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><p>2 seconds of silence.<p>

_"It's already nighttime."_

_"Yeah."_

1 second of hesitation.

_"Should we go back?"_

_"I don't want to."_

_"Me neither."_

4 seconds of silence.

_"Let's count the stars then?"_

_"Aaron…"_

_"You've never tried it, love? I used to do it with my mom as a child. It took forever to count them."_

11 seconds of counting stars.

_"Juliette?"_

_"Yeah?"_

_ "Are you asleep?"_

_"Yeah."_

_"Do you want to stay here?"_

_"Yeah."_

A kiss.

"Goodnight, Juliette." He whispers, fingers gently stroking my hair.

"Goodnight, Aaron." I whisper, slowly falling into darkness. "I love you."

I fell asleep under the stars, with the boy I love right beside me.

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><p>When I woke up the next day the first thing I see is Warner fast asleep beside me. It also took me a second to realize that we're back in his room, on his bed. He carried me all the way back.<p>

I smiled.

I knew that I didn't have to ask him if he stayed with me until the stars disappeared; I knew he did. He probably spent the entire night counting the stars.

_He'll stay even after the stars disappear_, I thought, _but stars never actually disappear. _Nothing, I have come to realize, will disappear. Even after our deaths, our memories will continue to revolve and rotate around the sun just like the earth does. Our stories will be written in people's hearts, and no one can ever take that away from them. No one can take that away from us.

The world is ours, we can control it, and as long as I'm next to him in the long years ahead of us I know that everything will be alright.

So I spend the next few minutes counting the stars on this perfectly imperfect boy's face.

_If every freckle is an angel's kiss_, I think, _then no wonder you have galaxies pressed upon your skin._ And how much I want to kiss these galaxies myself goes beyond compare.


	2. A Bed of Roses (part 1)

**TWS:** The prompt was given by someone who wishes to remain anonymous. They wanted me to make a prompt wherein Aaron asks Juliette out… And, well, read to find out the rest.

Oh! And I honestly don't proofread my works (yes, I'm actually good at proofreading, but I'm a very lazy arse).

**Disclaimer:** I don't own anything but the story plot and the prompt collection. I wish I owned a fictional-to-an-actual-living-being machine though

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><p><strong>Prompt 2: A Bed of Roses (part 1)<strong>

For the first time in my entire 17 years I'm able to sleep properly; continuously.

No nightmares or waking up in the middle of the night with a half-dead body, fishing and catching whatever oxygen my lungs could afford. The nightmares have stopped the moment I stopped dreaming of the white bird, and the person beside me must be the reason for this. _The bird with a golden crown._

My eyes flutter open, flinching as I'm greeted by the all-too-happy sun and the green of Warner eyes in front of me, apparently more wide awake than me. There's a soft smile painted on his handsome face, and I'm wondering why my heart hasn't turned into a butterfly and left the comforts of my chest just so it could fly to him, to the warmth that surrounds him.

I don't know if it's right to feel the ache in my chest whenever I open my eyes to see a new day and find him lying beside me, greeting me with such tenderness; he's showing more and more of the boy I never knew of than the man I used to be afraid of everyday. Sometimes I would think that one day I might wake up from this paradise and end up back at the beginning of this never-ending game— back in Omega Point with nothing but just the illusion of what could've been.

But then I remember what he told me once. How he always thought that I was only an illusion in his catastrophic mind, but then he would see and _feel _what I feel for him, and that was all the proof he needed.

Him being here? That's proof enough for me to know that this is real, too.

"Good morning, love," he whispers, his hand gently touching my bare arms, and, as I try to fight away the shivers he had caused, I tell my brain to take a picture of this moment, of _him,_ just like it does everyday when I wake up like this. It's a memory I'd like to go back to for no reason at all.

"'Morning, Aaron," I whisper back, smiling as he presses his lips against mine. It lasts a second shorter than I want it to be, and the absence of his soft lips elicits a whine from me. He smirks. Stupid.

"I'm guessing you slept nicely last night, then?" he says, raising an amused brow. I nod shyly as the memories of last night flooded my thoughts. He says, "I was wondering if you'd like to go out today?"

"Out? Out where?" We're _required_ to go out everyday. It's a daily routine for us to go outside and do our appointed tasks; me with consulting the Council, Aaron with temporarily being the Supreme Commander. It's a title he doesn't feel he deserves because of his father, but I think so otherwise. He's been so great with handling all the situations the Council throws at him. I've already seen his projects being built everywhere—and with it, building the people's trust and respect. Sector 45's base has already begun its demolition, and so with the other sectors. They'll be transferring the bases into places that won't alarm the people. They want a better, more free country, and letting the military take over won't do any good for all of our healths. So they took down the bases.

And our base will be replaced by a house.

Which we'll be living in once it's finished.

I've never thought of the possibility of getting married or living in with anyone for life, and I might not even think about it in the days to come or the years lined up in front of us. It's a topic I want to delve on once he and I reach that part of the road. For now, I want to focus on this exact moment that's ticking into the history of our lives.

"A date, Juliette," he explains, chuckling at the blank look on my face. He says, "please don't tell me that you've never gone on a date before."

A pause. A blank stare. A slight shaking of my head. I knew what dating meant, though I've never gone out with anyone before, not even with Adam.

"Why?" I tell him, "have you?"

"Not really, no. But I think it'd be a great idea to have our first on this day."

"What happened on this day? The day we met?"

"No," he says so lightly that I'm taken aback with his next words, "it's the day you shot me."

I want to say something, to gather the missing thoughts and sentences in my puzzle of a mouth, but he goes on, quieter this time, "It's the day you woke me up and made me realize why I'm in love with you, why I had learned to regret the terrible act I had to trap you into. You opened my eyes and left me unblinking and unable to function properly, love."

I tell myself to swallow the tears building up in my eyes. "Oh, Aaron…"

He smiles again.

Whispers, "And I have never felt so grateful in my entire life until that day."

Stop falling for this boy again and again, I tell myself.

_Too late_.

_Seconds and months and lifetimes too late. _

I quickly seal my lips with his and I don't know how many seconds it has been or what time it took for this entire moment. Time is dissolving into sand and it's slipping away from my fingers for the first time in my life, but it doesn't scare me at all. He's managed to unwire this ticking bomb in my head and I love it.

He answers almost immediately, and I try to cool down the flame burning brighter and brighter inside me. His tongue begs for entrance and I give it all too quickly. His lips curve into a mischievous smile. He bites my lower lip, eliciting a loud moan from me. That's when I try so hard to calibrate and align myself with the world. I try to keep track of the seconds.

_1…2… 8…_

He lifts himself up, on top of me. His palm is on my stomach and my back arches in response. His other hand is holding mine, the spaces between our fingers fitting perfectly with one another, just like these cracked and flawed hearts.

I slip my hand away from his, placing both on his bare chest and slowly traveling into different places until it comes to contact with the marks on his back, with the word that are more than just letters. He groans and whispers into my ear, and I'm wondering why my heart is able to beat this fast without exploding in my chest.

_10…13…20…_

He's kissing me slowly, painfully, and it reminds me of our second kiss.

Aaron Warner Anderson is kissing me with such an intensity that I don't know if I'm falling or flying, or both.

He pulls away for a second to show how much he dislikes the shirt I'm wearing before taking it off of me and throwing it somewhere in the corner of the room.

"You need to stop wearing shirts whenever we're in this room, or in this entire house for God's sake," he says through ragged breaths, "it's a new house rule." He's already making his way down, leaving behind a trail of kisses on my skin. It takes forever for my eyes to focus again and the words to tumble out of my lips.

"_God, Aaron"—_a pause—"okay."

He replies with a contented mumble and continues whatever he plans on doing, very happy with the reaction he's getting from me.

And for God knows how long, the room was filled with the sounds of 2 names from 2 people's lips, short-lived gasps, and a cry that could only have come from my own mouth.

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><p>"You still haven't answered my question," Warner whispers, breaking the comfortable silence between us. I'm already sitting up, resting my head against the headboard, and he's still lying beside me, his arm around my leg. I'm wearing his shirt to prevent the cold air from touching me, which he said was "not necessary if you would lie down with me", to which I determinately rejected.<p>

My silence is a second too long.

"Juliette?" he's worried now. "It's okay if you don't want to, love—"

"Yes."

"—I was just wondering if—" he stops and says, "what?"

"Yes," I say, louder this time. "I'd like to go on a date with you."

I give him a second to register what I said.

"You will?" he says, trying and failing to hide the excitement and hopefulness in his voice. It's adorable.

"Yes, I will. I really don't think it's healthy to repeat everything—"

He pulls me down for a kiss. Pulls away when I don't respond.

"What's wrong, love?"

"You interrupted me while I'm talking." It's an awful truth of mine: I get annoyed sometimes when people interrupt me while I'm speaking. Something I must've developed because of the Council. He knows this as well.

"Oh, sorry," he says.

The anger slowly lifts off my chest and I relax myself. I can't stay mad at him forever, especially with the look he's giving me right now.

"You're forgiven," I say, laughing at the change of his mood when he hears me say those two words. I continue, "but maybe you could make up for it?"

Confidence takes over once again and he's laughing as well, pulling me down as he says, "Of course. I'm just hoping that you're ready for round two."

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><p><strong>An:** Belated Happy Valentines! Part 2 is already up btw. I decided to make a part 1 and 2 because it's a special day wherein people like myself come to the realization that they're single! Hoorah!

Thanks to everyone who contributed to this fic, and by everyone I actually meant myself. I'm so great.

If you want to send a prompt, leave one in the reviews section or PM me at aaron-warner or kevinseyes on tumblr!


	3. A Bed of Roses (part 2)

**TWS:** I'm bad at keeping promises yo. This post-date btw. Pre-date was part 1! Check it out if you haven't yet! Oh, and don't forget to leave a review!

**Disclaimer**: Everything but the story and the collection are not mine but maybe Warner could be mine hello there

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><p><strong>Prompt 2: A Bed of Roses (part 2) <strong>

It was already past 12 when we got home from our date. The nervousness hasn't left my system yet, and my heart has been extremely jumpy and excited today.

Though I wouldn't mind spending the rest of my life like this.

I wouldn't mind shutting down the rest of the world and the weight of my responsibilities just to replay this day again.

Never have I felt so _normal _in all of my 17 years of living in this chaos-driven world. I have seen people gain a family and people die and people fighting for the freedom they deserved to have. I have loved and lost and caused one of the greatest wars. I have _seen _the world change under my fingertips, and all this happened when I reached 17 years old.

Maybe normal isn't my type of book.

"I think that's how dates usually went," Aaron says once we're inside the house. He's been smiling since we got home, dimples on both cheeks, and I can't help but be laugh at how he looks like right now. It's adorable.

I rest my hands on his chest as he pulls me close to him, one hand on my waist and the other resting on my cheek. God, I love the smell of him. The familiar smell that only he could have, and it's quite distracting, especially with the faint scent of honeysuckle on his skin. "You looked like you knew what you were doing, though. I thought you never went on a date before."

He shakes his head, blushing slightly. Bites his lower lip. "I asked advice from an acquaintance."

My thoughts click into place.

"And is this acquaintance a 20-year old former soldier of yours who also happens to be your girlfriend's best friend?"

He shrugs.

"Oh, wow," I say, still unable to find the dictionary in my head, "I guess… Well, I couldn't imagine what happened when you two discussed this." I want to know how it went. Maybe Kenji can tell me tomorrow.

"It _was_ quite an unusual experience. I hadn't expected the outcome at all, and it was slightly embarrassing for me."

He shifts his weight, feigning coughs and looking everywhere but my eyes. Maybe I'll ask him what happened some day, but now I'll just let it go.

"You left a few minutes before our date," I say slowly, changing the topic. I watch the quick flash of surprise on his face as I continue, "Did something happen? Did the Council call? You should've told me if it was important—"

"It was important," he interrupts, "but I don't think its not as important to the Council as it is to me. The Council might have a big misunderstanding, and God knows that I don't appreciate how they chastise you. I'll show you."

He offers his hand and guides me to the yard. The sight that greets me the moment he opens the door takes me by surprise. I'm left standing in place, frozen and eyes wide, and I couldn't help but wonder how he was able to do such a thing in less than 10 minutes.

Because all I see are flowers.

Everywhere.

Violets and reds and yellows and different colors of different flowers, and most of them are types that I have never seen or read about before.

I am a girl of words and phrases and letters, but this boy has managed to take those all away from me because of the things that he's done. I may have woke him up by the actions that I make, but it's him who has the capability to render me speechless and make me feel weaker and stronger at the same time.

I can barely utter a word or a sound and the tears have begun to form in my eyes. I feel the light brush of the wind on my skin and I turn around, turn to the boy who's on one knee.

His smile is brighter than any firework I've seen—hell, it's brighter than the sun—and it's first time I've seen him look so happy.

"I may have been exaggerated when I told Kenji to buy you the same amount of flowers as your worth," he says, watching with the most tender eyes as I walk down to where he is. He reveals the single rose hidden behind his back. I take it as he says, "there's not enough flowers, really. You're worth more than this."

I laugh.

I laugh and I smile and I wipe away the tears that are leaving my eyes. I hug him like I'm close to my death and he's the rope that could save me and lift me up, away into a world so familiar yet strange to my own eyes. His balance is lost and he falls to the ground with me on top of him.

He's laughing as I pepper him with kisses everywhere.

His forehead. His eyelids. His jaw. His dimples. His lips.

His lips.

_His lips._

"I love you too," he says between kisses, "Oh, and Happy Valentines Day, love."

Of course. How stupid for me to forget.

It's Valentines Day, I should remember this. The days when roses were turned into guns and shoot my heart and my own sanity. Roses, I think, are too beautiful to be perfect, which was why they were cursed with thorns.

Maybe that was what my parents thought too. Maybe that was what crossed their minds, which was why they wanted me to suffer the consequences.

They gave me a rose when I was 6.

Red, with more thorns than petals and more reasons to be afraid of rather than just being pricked.

They wanted to know if I could kill other living beings, if it's not just humans, so they gave me a rose. A gift of love and appreciation, they said. Valentines is one of rare days where there would be no burns or tears or screams, they said.

What they never knew was that I could, and that there were more screams that day than any normal day.

I once thought that they were telling the truth. That they loved me and tried so hard to be with me even with my curse. I was a rose, I think. Underneath the tragically beautiful image of it, there will always be thorns in their stems. More deadly than beautiful, and more beautiful than any other. And roses rarely trusted others because they weren't cursed like them.

But this—this is different.

I expect to be met by a handful of thorns, or to accidentally kill these flowers that I hold in my hand. But things are different now; I know the immensity of my powers, I know _how _to channel out my powers, and I won't let my curse be a hindrance to anyone, myself included. I won't let anyone or anything important to me get hurt again, especially Aaron.

Roses, I think, might not be as cursed as they thought they were. Sometimes it's worth the cuts, bruises or the spilled blood. It's worth enduring a lifetime for.

It's worth waiting for someone to love me so much that they even had the thorns cut off.

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><p><em>"In all honesty, I was never fond of getting gifts as a child."<em>

_"So was I, love. But then I found out that there were some gifts worth being thankful for. You're one of them; on top of the list."_

_". . . Thank you, Aaron."_

_"As long as you're happy, love, then that's already enough for me."_

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><p><strong>An:** Thank you to this weird Loki poetry I saw on tumblr for the inspiration. Thank you to my followers pushing me to keep on writing. Thank you to Dan Howell, The Stanley Parable creators and probably my own sanity for putting me in a 4-hour existential crisis zone and making me remember why I don't like people.

For more request/prompts, you can PM me on aaron-warner (or kevinseyes) on tumblr or here in the reviews section.


	4. Happiness is Hard To Find

**TWS: **Lose your prompt masterlist, lose your sanity. My birthmonth isn't the happiest month I suppose. Anyways, I had to rewrite everything for this one. The prompt was Juliette and Warner in the training room!

Leave a review if you think it was worth making me happy/mad/sad/inspired to work harder! Have prompts to suggest? _PM it at aaron-warner on tumblr or leave it in the reviews section!_ I currently have 24 (?) prompts, and I have only finished 3. I'm a shame to humanity.

**Disclaimer**: Everything belongs to Mafi save for the prompt ideas, the entire work, and the unusual behavior of the characters.

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><p><strong>Prompt 3: Happiness is Hard to Find <strong>

Complete and utter exhaustion fills whatever's left of my consciousness and pushes me until I collapse to the cold matted ground, knees week and arms barely movable as I groan in immense pain, closing my eyes and fighting back the tears. It's times like these when I truly hated Aaron Warner Anderson, for being such an unmerciful teacher, and myself, for loving this massive pain in the ass.

It's 8:37 in the bloody morning, the day today is Monday, I am inside the Colonel Chief Regent's secret training room in Sector 45, and I have been continuously worn out and defeated by my boyfriend since 2 hours ago.

"Stand up, love. We're minutes away from finishing today's training."

"No," I exhale, my breath running short and my eyes, in their closed state, are seeing all sorts of indescribable shapes and colors.

He sighs. "We won't finish early if you don't focus and win at least once, sweetheart. The stimulation tests in the main base are more difficult than the ones here; it—"

"Can find your weaknesses and use them against you," I interrupt, my composure running short. "You've told me this countless of times, Aaron, and I don't think that pure physical training would help. Not all tests require any physical activity since it depends on the person's fears." My eyes flutter open, slowly. I blink once, twice, venting all my anger towards the blinding white light in this room.

Green eyes.

The next thing I see is him standing beside me, looking at me as if I'm something he's never dealt with before. His eyes are an even mixture of exasperation, impatience and a sort of unspoken understanding towards my demeanor. He's been training me since the past week in preparation for my test, which will be held in the Capital, and so we both have a mutual understanding as to why we're both acting like this. Restlessness and fatigue visited us everyday these past few days that we barely have enough time to think about ourselves. There would even be times when Warner would fall asleep while looking through his paperwork, and times when I would end up snapping at him more than once when we try to handle the problems in the Sector.

We're spending so much of our time and devotion, attending to whatever the Council requests from us, that we would sometimes forget that we're only two young people who've sacrificed so much for the people we love, especially for each other. We've forgotten that I'm only seventeen and he's only nineteen, that this isn't what normal teenagers do.

But we're anything but normal, and it's something we've learned to embrace despite the difficulties.

Warner notices that my mind has drifted away, and this makes him worry. He offers his hand and pulls me up, into his arms,

and time seems to stop for this moment,

these few seconds of nothing but listening to the sound of our breathing while I cling onto him like he's my lifeline.

The stiffness in his posture begins to drift away as we continue to stay like this. 2A boy and a girl with nothing left to lose, grieving for nothing in this godforsaken world and taking whatever the world has to offer in its plate.

"I'm so tired," I say quietly, focusing only on the sensation of his fingers writing down invisible letters and words on my back.

It spells out my name.

And three words. One that I'll never grow tired of.

"I wish I could take away all your doubts and fears," he holds me by the chin and tips it up until my eyes lock with his. Says, "I wish I could carry the weight the world has placed on you."

"I wish I could carry yours," I reply.

_Silence._

Then,

"You'll pass the tests, prove to the Council that it's about damn time they give you what you rightfully deserve." There's the unfailing hint of determination in his tone now, and it makes me so jealous of his ability to keep me together at my weakest moments. It's as if he knows what to say no matter what situation we're in, and I admire him for that.

He places a gentle hand on my cheek — it feels as if he thinks I'm glass even if he knows I'm not. For once, I am so grateful for this gesture — and I lean into the warmth of his touch. "You've offered so much for this world, Juliette, and I don't think anyone could be as strong and determined as you have been these past few months. You've done things that people wouldn't have the courage to do," he pauses for a second, leaning in to place a feather-light kiss on my lips. Touches my forehead with his and whispers, "I'm so proud of you."

The world must be so envious of me, I thought.

They must be so envious of Aaron for not sharing his kindness and warmth to the rest of the world. They must hate me for keeping this boy away from them for so long, hiding all the secrets that only I will ever know about, but I am too selfish and too hopelessly in love with him to share his name with everyone else.

People find happiness in the most peculiar and darkest of places, and I found mine in Aaron.

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><p><strong>An: **Thanks for putting up with me for such a long period of time -hug- and I do hope that no one's pissed at me since I'll be posting things as quickly as humanly possible. I apologize for the short prompt, but my mind was in complete chaos the past 2 weeks because of Final Exams. I'll be in America from the 21st to April 9th and Korea from the 10th to 8th I think. Please do remind me about keeping my promises on tumblr. I need as much help as I can possibly get.

More and more people are asking me to write M-rated scenes and I promise you guys that I _will _write some Warnette sex, though I think I need more time to practice writing these things before I could shamefully share it to the world.


	5. Under Certain Circumstances

**TWS: **This fic was inspired by tumblr user wqrner's idea (if Juliette wore a Filipiniana attire while Warner wore barong tagalog), and since we were both proud Filipinos I decided to write a fic based on their idea. You can search what these things look like online, but let me tell you one thing: you can never see me wear a Filipiniana unless it's for a school event. Last time I wore one was, like, 5 years ago or more.

**This is a third person P.O.V. and tends to switch in the most subtle way every now and then. **

**Disclaimer: **Everything but the story isn't mine. Credits for the idea go to tumblr user wqrner

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><p><strong>Prompt 4: Under Certain Circumstances<strong>

He had never wanted to be involved in an arrangement such as this, but somehow he couldn't deny his parents' request. He was never forced into doing it, but somehow he never felt remorse for his action, especially with the knowledge that he may never be happy in the future. What pissed him off, though, was the fact that his parents never told him that he was already betrothed to someone before he was even born.

And although he'd rather spend the entire day on Tumblr or reading a book or _something_, he is left standing in the middle of an extremely large and luxurious dining hall with hundreds of unfamiliar people all around him.

(Seriously, do arranged marriages still exist in 2014? Especially here, in the Philippines?)

With him as a living proof, then the answer must be yes.

Aaron shifted his weight on his right foot, arms crossed over his chest in an attempt to stop the itch his attire's sleeves were giving him (it was the first time her wore _barong tagalog_ in his entire life). The thing was uncomfortable to wear, but he was grateful that the material of the thing wasn't to thick, and that he was allowed to wear an undershirt, or else he would've ended up itching the entire night.

It would only be a few minutes until his future partner, Juliette, would arrive. Like him, Juliette was also only half-Filipino, her father being French-American, thus the surname Ferrars. He had heard many things about her. Her beauty and the way she's good at helping her family business, but what intrigued him though was that she was so intelligent that she could convince adults into agreeing with her opinions and statements, and that was something that was hard to do for people their age. Adults never trusted opinions made by their children, especially when it involved politics (God knows that every now and then a teenager finds a way to prevent corruption in this country, but people won't listen to them).

He continued watching the different guests chatter about the most random things, their voices loud and deafening that he couldn't even hear what the group nearest him were talking about. Silence was always his best friend (well, aside from Adam) and he had been missing its company since the moment he stepped into the room. He wanted to walk away from his spot, maybe get a drink or find his mother when his eyes landed on a certain young girl with brown hair, and he knew then that that was _her_.

And she was so beautiful.

He'd seen and heard about her many times in pictures and stories filled with praise. He even knew her social website addresses (and, yes, her Tumblr because his parents told him to make sure he knew everything about her) and he knew that she was a pretty girl, but nothing compared to seeing her in person. They always said that pictures from a camera wasn't the same as seeing something or someone in the flesh.

_Beautiful wasn't even enough to describe her_, he thought to himself. And it wasn't even because of her face, her title or the way she looked so happy. It was the way he saw something inside of her, something he couldn't describe, that drew him to her like a moth drawn to flames. He didn't know why or how he could feel it, but he knew it was there, and it only brought him courage to approach the young woman.

Her thoughts must've done the same because the moment her eyes found his, she too had begun to lift her skirt and walk towards him (or maybe it was because he's the only one with blonde hair in the room? Funny if that was the case). It looked difficult and uncomfortable, her Filipiniana outfit, but if it was then she tried at her highest capacities to mask her discomfort.

In the end, they were both moths drawn to the flames in each other. It was funny how, in this time, they have yet to find out what the flame was or why they were drawn to it, but the mysteries that they didn't know didn't hinder them from meeting somewhere in the middle of the room.

"Hello," he said first, quite unsure how to continue conversation. She squeaked a barely inaudible hello, bringing her hand up to shake his, but as he took it he surprisingly leaned down to kiss the back of her hand. Such gestures were things Filipinos were unaccustomed too, but it was also a reminder that a part of their blood also belonged somewhere else.

"So you're Aaron Warner?" he nodded.

"It's a pleasure to meet you then. I'm-"

"Juliette Ferrars," he says, smiling what he hopes is his best smile. Hopefully there wasn't anything on his face right now; God knows causing embarrassing moments are his worst fears. "The pleasure is all mine, love."

She blushes when he calls her that, and makes his smile grow wider (maybe in the future I can keep calling her that). "I do hope that this ... party is going well," she says, nodding towards the hungry-looking guests by the buffet table before bringing her gaze back to him. Says, "How are you feeling?"

"I'm fine, thanks." A pause. "Though with everything that's happening..."

"The arrangement," she says, a look of understanding crossing her face. "And all for the sake of business and politics. Is your girlfriend alright with the situation?"

"I don't have a girlfriend, actually, and I don't think I would ever have one because you had already been introduced as my fiancée as a child." His words had sounded bitter, and he has never felt much regret in his entire life until now.

"I didn't mean to—"

"Mr. Warner-"

"Please," he interrupts, "call me Aaron. I'm still a teenager, both of us are, and I'm pretty sure formalities could be put aside. It brings me more comfort to call people by their first names. So please, Juliette, call me Aaron." He has dimples, she thinks, and if that kind of smile has never made girls grow weak in the knees, she wouldn't believe it.

"Aaron," it's a name unfamiliar to her lips, and she says it like it's an unusual taste on her tongue, but soon this name would be one that she'll remember forever and call out everyday. She tries to say something, a question, but the words were blocked by the deafening sounds echoing throughout the room.

"What?" He yells. Looks at the terrace doors and points to it. "Would you mind taking this conversation outside? If you don't mind, of course." The boy offers his hand to her and she looks at it, not used with such a gentlemanly gesture. She's been courted many times in her life, both by boys outside and inside her campus, but she has never accepted any of their courting, never reciprocated their feelings, because she knew then that her heart should belong to the man her parents had told her to marry.

What she doesn't know, though, that in the future she will look back at her teenager years and tell him that she has never regretted closing her heart from others. She will tell him that she never regretted giving her heart to him, that even under certain circumstances she had never force herself to unconditionally love her future husband because she's already fallen for him from the start.

And then he will tell her then that it never mattered if they were arranged together from the start because he had never been forced to fall for her, that she had done it on her own just by her smile and the way she looks at him with so much love and care. He will tell her that no matter how many lifetimes, how many different situations, love will always find away to bring them together. Juliette looks up at him and smiles. It's a smile that makes the stars and the moon fail in comparison and makes any other woman jealous of this young girl's radiance, and he has never been more grateful to see something such as this.

"Okay," she tells him, taking her hand in his and letting her fiancé lead the way into the night.

* * *

><p><strong>An: **Does it look rushed? Yes. Is it rushed? Maybe.

So anyways, that's that. A new fic will (hopefully) be posted before the week, seeing as I'm going to Seoul, Korea tonight. If you have any recommendations on where I could go to or buy fandom stuff, don't be shy to tell me.

Prompts? Ideas? Talk to me? PM me here or leave a message at my tumblr account: aaron-warner


	6. True Love Never Dies (part 1)

**TWS: **I remember writing a Shatter Me story before, though I never published it, about how Warner would be like when Juliette dies. I wrote a not-so-short summary of it on Tumblr, but it ended up being some short story that made me question my own existence. I don't think I'll be posting the full story anytime soon, but I'll post the short one here.

**Disclaimer: **You already know it.

* * *

><p><em><strong>"I love you every day. And now I will miss you every day." <strong>  
>Mitch Albom, <em>For One More Day<em>_

* * *

><p><strong>Prompt 5: True Love Never Dies (Even When The Person Does) <strong>

It's been a year since Aaron Warner lost the one person he loved the most. A year since he had lost the soldier who managed to change the world with her own two hands.

A year since Juliette Ferrars' death.

He knew that death was inescapable, and that no matter how strong and invincible they both seem, they were still fully human; they were still flawed beings. But it was always love that drove people to do the most insane things, and that was the reason why Juliette died even if she didn't deserve to.

The chaos and suffering that Anderson left behind had immediately disappeared the moment Juliette took his seat. She had started to take everything into order, bringing peace into the continent and happiness to those who lived among it. She was able to rebuild the world with her own two hands, and it was incredible.

He never admitted it to her, but she knew that she had saved so many lives as well. His life most of all. She had dug him out of the grave he made himself and showed him what lied beyond the walls he created in his own heart. She showed him that he was capable of love.

But she never told him that love can ruin a person, and he sometimes hated her for that. He hated the fact that _she _was ruined because of love—because of her love for _him. _He had blamed it all on her desire to be a martyr, to do what no one had the courage to, but he mostly blamed himself for letting her be ruined to death.

The bullet was never meant for her. But she took it anyways.

And, on some days, he's just so mad at himself for allowing this girl's love to be more than just an illusion, because he knew that an illusion would be much less painful than something that will never be again.

* * *

><p>He meets a girl who seems all too familiar in the streets of Sector 46, their neighboring sector, and for one second he thought that maybe this was all some cruel dream as well. He's always dreamt about her since the night of her death, it wouldn't surprise him if this was one of them.<p>

She's a girl who was old enough to have the same age as his brother James. She had long brow hair that fell on her shoulders and possibly the most painful shade of blue-green eyes that brought pages and pages of memories into his head. But it was the way she moved, and the way she smiled at her friends, that made him see it: her posture, the way her eyes lit up like fireworks that danced in the sky, and the headstrong attitude that she carried with her everywhere.

It may not be her, but she resembles the woman he once loved—he'll always love.

So he takes his chances and tries to find out who this young woman is.

Alexandra Ferrars. The second and youngest child of Eric and Evelyn Ferrars.

It makes his blood run dry and his mind lose control over this information. He finds it difficult to say it out loud, lest to think of it, because he knew that Juliette never knew about her. She never knew about the 17 year old girl who could've been there for her.

She never knew about this girl who's her sister, and that's what made it even worse.

It explains why her parents had always tried to avoid her when they had the chance to apologize to their child; they had another child to take care of. One that doesn't have any powers or any forced genetic alterations that could've made her something that seemed impossible. Her parents must've been afraid to tell Juliette, for fear that she would think that they tortured this little girl as well.

But it was in Alexandria, he realized, that their parents had known their mistake and its consequences. She was the result of a desire to change and fix all of the mistakes that they have made.

She was the result of Eric and Evelyn's love, something her older sister never had as a child.

* * *

><p>After Warner finds more about the girl, he manages to find a way to approach her and talk to her occasionally. He wasn't as bad as making conversations as before, wherein he wouldn't even want to try to make small talk, but Juliette changed that part of him. It was also because of James, his brother, who never stopped asking him questions until the very end.<p>

The months pass by as the remembrance of Juliette's death grows stronger in him and the friendship that he developed with Xandra became deeper. He ends up loving—not falling in love—the shy but courageous girl.

And then he tells her all about the sister she never saw, the sister her parents rarely told her about. He tells her how beautiful she was and how she reminded him of the girl whom he loved more than the stars and the moon.

He tells her that if he ever had the chance to be with her again, he'd take it without any regrets.

At the end of each day their bond grows stronger, closer, and he wishes that Juliette could see them right now and see the girl who can prove to her that being blood related doesn't always mean you're not family. He wishes that she is happy to see them, wishes she's happy James, who has fallen in love with the young girl.

He wishes that she's happy right now, because for the first time since her death, he has finally learned to smile again.

* * *

><p>But, in the end, not everything is what it seems.<p>

The weight of her death still strikes him everyday, crushing his bones and his heart in the process. But it is what all he has now; it's the only thing that's making him feel alive.

It's been 6 years since her death. He comes to her grave and stays there until nighttime, and goes somewhere else to drown himself.

Aaron Warner is a 30 year old man who has never married after Juliette. And now he's sitting alone, half out of his own mind, in a local bar.

Most men that come here drown themselves in anger, sorrow, or boredom. Some drink for the sake of mourning over wasted opportunities, while some drink for the sake of drinking.

He was there for neither of those things.

Aaron Warner was there not because he's lost his mind and his heart to his own sorrows, nor because he's lost his love for her; It was never because he had fallen out of love.

He drinks to forget.

He drinks in honor of her. In honor of what could've been their 8th year anniversary.

But it's only half the truth.

He'll never admit that it's because he misses her so badly, or because he blames himself for being the cause of her death.

No matter how much he persuaded her, her heart won't change. She wanted to give birth to their son, no matter what the consequence was, but it was something that was too heavy for him to bear. He only ever had one choice:

To lose his wife, or to lose his own child.

In the end, he looses both.

But he will never admit that he drinks because of that.

* * *

><p><strong>An: **Uhm... Okay. I'm not quite sure if I should post part 2 of the story, but I do think it'd be the best and most satisfying end to this short oneshot. Maybe I should... What do you think?

_**"The bullet was never meant for her. But she took it anyways."**_

That line was a metaphor for Juliette and Warner's baby. Even though Warner doesn't think he deserves to have her carry his child, Juliette tells him that it'll all be okay. But of course she and their child weren't able to live through it. If you translate the line then it's kind of like** "She was never meant to carry the child of a man like me who is so undeserving of this girl. I don't even deserve to be a father. And yet, she decided to carry the weight of my burdens without hesitation." ****  
><strong>

In a way, there's also an implication that he's afraid of becoming Anderson...

So basically, if we put things in a much easier, metaphorical way: Warner deserves to die, someone tries to shoot him, Juliette loves him and takes the bullet instead, even if she wasn't supposed to be the target.

... Er... Please don't throw unlit cigarettes at me...

Reviews, corrections, and... violent reactions are highly appreciated. Thanks...!


	7. Even When The Person Does (part 2)

**TWS: **Partoo!

**Disclaimer: **Must I need to say it every time?

* * *

><p><strong><em>"Death leaves a heartache no one can heal, love leaves a memory no one can steal."<br>_**_Richard Puz, The Carolinian_

* * *

><p><strong>Chapter 5.2: True Love Never Dies (Even When The Person Does) <strong>

He'll never admit that his health is failing either.

He can barely eat, sleeping is already a form of luxury he can't afford, and he can't do his paperwork for more than 6 hours a day without getting constant headaches.

(He doesn't mention the way his hands shake uncontrollably, nor the idea that being a soldier is the only thing that's giving him a sense of relief. He never does.)

But then, he's never really good at screaming.

* * *

><p>Days.<p>

Months.

Years.

The dates never mattered anymore as the months flew past. He says that counting the days meant nothing anymore, and that counting the seconds before your death was like waiting for a bomb to explode. What's worse is that he doesn't even know how many seconds are left before _he_ explodes.

Lexa, Juliette's sister, was the first to know about his condition. He never told her, nor did he need to. The more time they spent together, the more she gradually notices the slight changes in him.

(It was the way she looked at him, the way she acted—with her teal eyes always staring into his green ones, and how she hugged him too much—that made him realize she spent every waking moment together would him as if it would be their last one. The goodbyes exchanged already felt like each would be the last.)

She visits him almost every day and, for hours, they talked about whatever they could: her schooling, her parents, her progressive relationship with James Kent. On some days, when he felt like it, he talked about the life he once had as well, and the things he did to please Anderson, who desired to transform him into the perfect soldier. And on rare occasions, Warner would tell her about Juliette, the girl who changed the world.

It was rather beautiful, actually, when he told tales of the girl who changed the world. He told them as if he were singing a sacred song, a story that only those who live to tell can sing of, each word carefully spoken as if he were holding precious treasures that can never be replaced. He described her in ways that paintings and photographs can't—the color of her eyes and the way she smiled so brightly when he called her "love"—as if the memory of her was carved onto his skin the moment she claimed his heart.

He shows her various pictures that he collected in boxes, but there was one photograph that always stood out the most. A picture of a young woman with brown hair and eyes that are similar to her own. Lexa remembered the beautiful white dress that her sister wore, a small bouquet of white, purple, and yellow flowers on her right hand, and the other locked around the blond young man's arm. Their smiles felt as if the sun had decided to bless these two lovers and touched them with its brightness.

Alexandra's heart constricted. Pictures are never enough.

When Warner sang stories of her, he would close his eyes as him mind painted the picture of a woman in her early twenties, her long silky hair spilling from her shoulders. He would picture her with her arms open for him, a sad smile on her face.

He missed pulling her into his arms and listening as she sang songs that she had heard from the wind.

He missed feeling her soft skin pressed against his, her fingers tracing words and patterns, each mark searing his skin and making him ache.

He missed the times when she kissed him as if the world would run out of air if she hadn't.

He missed loving her.

He missed her.

* * *

><p>8 years after Juliette's death, Kenji had been elected as the third president. He dutifully followed the footsteps of his best friend, continuing the path that she had left behind. It had been during his presidential period that great changes had been made. Turning the United States into a ferealized government was one of his most greatest contributions yet.<p>

It was only later, when Warner and Kenji had a celebratory get-together, that Kenji had told him the real story behind everything: everything he had established was all idealized by Juliette herself. Juliette had dreams that ran for miles, and Kenji wanted to make her dreams come true; she gave him things that he always wished for. It was time for him to do the same.

Adam had pursued his dream of continuing education by going to college a year after he had built a new life in another sector, graduating several years after. It was there that he had fallen in love with Emma, a young woman who had dreams of becoming a doctor, who later became his wife. Juliette and Emma had been the closest of friends, and it was thanks to her that Juliette and Adam had finally brought closure to their unresolved issue.

Their wedding took place shortly after Emma finished college. Juliette had been the maid of honor, while Warner and James had been the best men (Adam found it too hard to choose between his brothers, so he went with both).

Now they're happily living together with their two children, Andrew and Juliet.

(Warner thought that they named their youngest child after one of Shakespeare's characters. It wasn't until after Juliet told her favorite uncle that her parents named her after Juliette that Warner hugged his 5-year-old niece and began to let the tears take over him.)

Alexandra, on the other hand, became the new Colonel Chief Regent and leader of Sector 45 after dropping out of college. Her parents had accepted and supported her decisions despite the hesitation in their actions. Juliette had never met her parents in the years that led up to her death, but he was hoping that, wherever she was, she had found it in her heart to forgive them, to let go of the mistakes they had done to her and be happy for her little sister, who grew up to be loved and happy, just like everyone else whose lives she has touched and vice-versa.

Everyone but him.

* * *

><p>Warner was the first to notice the ring on Lexi's finger and the nervousexcited smile on James's face.

May 18th, Lexi told him, because she wanted her sister to celebrate that day with them too.

Juliette's birthday

* * *

><p>But he dies a month before the wedding. A day before his birthday.<p>

His illness could be cured. He knows that. But never in a day of his life has he asked for it, nor will he ever do so.

He doesn't ask for the painkillers, the therapy, or the cures and surgeries that his own friends offer him. Beg him to accept.

He wants to feel the pain of it all, because, for once, it's the only thing that's making him feel so alive. It's the only thing that keeps him awake; knowing that pain exists exists for a reason.

(Knowing that he's one step closer to spending a lifetime with her. With _them._)

If there will come a time when his wish would be granted, he hoped it would be soon.

* * *

><p>His last memory is that of a beautiful young woman with brown hair and blue-green eyes. She smiles, eyes gleaming, and it reminds him of a smile that he used to see often, a smile that often calmed his heart and freed him from countless nightmares.<p>

A smile that he once loved, and loves still.

It is only when he whispers her name that he sees a small girl standing firmly beside her mother. The young girl looks at him, shy and unsure of what to do, before she calls him the one thing that he's never heard in his life.

She calls him "daddy", and that is what truly brings him to tears.

The woman takes his hand in hers and helps him up, out of the bed, and to the place where he truly belongs. With his wife and child.

Along the way, he tells her of his life after her passing. He tells her of what became their friends, his moments of loneliness and desperation, and of the girl—a girl who was fierce and brave and loving. A girl who changed his life, just like how her sister did.

* * *

><p>The heart monitor beeps, and sounds of grief and relief echoes in the hospital room.<p>

Grief, for the loss of a man who has lost himself.

Relief, for the man who will finally be with the people he loves the most.

* * *

><p>Aaron Warner is a 30 year old man who has never married after Juliette. And now he's sitting alone, half out of his own mind, in a local bar.<p>

Most men that come here drown themselves in anger, sorrow, or boredom. Some drink for the sake of mourning over wasted opportunities, while some drink for the sake of drinking.

He was there for neither of those things.

Aaron Warner was there not because he's lost his mind and his heart to his own sorrows, nor because he's lost his love for her; It was never because he had fallen out of love.

He drinks to forget.

He drinks in honor of her. In honor of what could've been.

But it's only half the truth—

—because before he could even order a drink, a young girl with brown hair and blue-green eyes comes into the bar, takes him by the arm and pulls him out, away from loneliness.

He realizes that, in the end, she was always there to save him when he unknowingly needed it.

(Just like how a certain girl saved him even when she never knew how to save herself.)

In the end, he dies with a solemn smile on his face.

In the end, he is happy.

* * *

><p><strong>An: **I need a drink.

I wasn't expecting to finish this terrible piece, actually. I felt like part 1 was already a good story itself, but then I felt guilty for not giving a satisfying ending...so I decided to make this little nugget.

Well, at least they're happy now...

It's time to start with a new chapter. This time I'm doing the "Juliette is pregnant and Warner faints a lot" thing.

Also, I'm currently accepting requests and such. You can PM me here, send me a review, or ask me on aaron-warner, my tumblr blog. Thanks!


	8. The Beginning

**TWS: **New story? Whoa? Still not sure when I'm gonna continue IM though soooo...

**The full story behind this chapter**: Juliette is found by Adam and Kenji, who are not a part of Warner's group of soldiers, and bring her to Omega Point. After months of getting used to her new life and forgetting everything that happened to her, she decides to join the war that was happening in the different sectors with her team (Adam, Kenji, Ian, Lily, Alia, Brendan, Winston and the twins). When she hears about the war going on at Sector 45, her sector, she decides to go there and find the man responsible for all the wars, especially since she learned that this man may be someone she once knew. She then meets Warner and the two decide to form an allegiance together in order to stop Anderson.

**WARNING: PLEASE DO NOT READ IF YOU ARE FAINT HEARTED**. It's not a trigger warning or anything, but there might be some details that wouldn't be suitable for some people. Some parts contain scenes wherein people and animals are killed, and I'm pretty sure not everyone wants to see that yeah.

**Disclaimer: **You know.

* * *

><p><strong>Chapter 6: The Beginning <strong>

The world ends today.

Aaron Warner is left alone to watch as death scatters all over the village like a wildfire in a forest. He watches as men, women, children flee from their homes, horror and anguish burning in their eyes as the lives they once had were burned down, taken away from them, and had been shoved into a whole new life that they did not wish to have. Some of them watched as their loved ones were taken away from them, their screams breaking even the toughest of glass. Some watched as their loved ones screamed for them, wishing for things that nobody will ever know. But the world always had a twisted sense of philosophies in its book.

_You die, and everything else dies with you. _They will not see the way you saw things, nor will they ever think about the things you thought. Nobody has the courage to enter a dead man's thoughts.

None of these things were new to Aaron Warner either. Guns, blood, pleas for help — things that he experiences everyday in his life. The line between cruelty and everything else shifts and blurs, and every detail of violence becomes nothing but a faint memory.

(It's expected coming from him. From a man who knew how to hold a gun first before learning how to write.)

The deprived crowd runs toward a path where they believe to be a new form of solace, only to be met by a hundred men in black and white uniforms, rifles settled comfortably in those men's hands. They are no less equivalent to machines controlled by one creator; heartless men, whom in their years of service, have lost all sense of emotion and individuality, empty shells that are products designed by war and death. It's an incontrovertible fate, yet none find the time to complain as barricades block the pathway and those who rebel are taken down.

_What a cruel world they live in_, he thinks. We_ live in. _

Several feral dogs appear from nowhere, lunging forward as they tackle the barricade of men.

One dog bites a man's leg, and the others follow.

The men raise their guns and aim. Fire.

Aaron Warner watches as blood spurts out of each dog — as, one by one, they all fall, whimpering as death takes over their small bodies. Their blood becomes indistinguishable as it fuses with the blood of others.

The sound of the guns' recoil means nothing to his ears now, nor do the yelps and screams that fill his senses. All sharp and raspy and broken, devoid of hope and happiness as each note slashes through clean flesh. A shattered orchestra that reminds him of Death's song.

It's a song that he'll never get tired of hearing.

Not that he had a choice to avoid this kind of fate.

Aaron Warner never intended for these things to happen, more so to _him, _yet he knew he had no option but to follow blindly as his father wanted him to. He was the son of one of 7 divisions of the world, with the objective of leading a fraction of his army to Omega Point, a desolated town that refuses to be a part of any Sector, and to eradicate every living being that resided there.

War over such meaningless things. Violence only results in more violence, but his father had already been to blinded by power to see behind everything. Anyone would do whatever they are capable of in order to gain an incredulous amount of power such as the one his father had. Even if it meant killing the one they loved.

Aaron Warner would sometimes wake up in the middle of the night, his own screams echoing throughout his room. It was nothing compared to the screams of the people whose lives he had to take away, but it never made him think less about anything. On most nights he'd dream about the man he once recognized as his own flesh and blood.

He was in a small blue house that smelled of comfort and love. He never identified with the place itself, but he wished that he was living there rather than his own cage of a room. He would walk up the flight of stairs, reaching a hallway that only led to one room.

Sometimes he'd try to turn back and run away from that place, but his body never coordinated.

Then he would open the door, eyes poking through the small space as he watches his father plunge a knife into a woman's chest repeatedly, her blood and his demented laugh decorating the white walls of the room. He would gasp, and his father would turn around and say in the eeriest voice: _"Welcome home, son." _

And he'd wake up with sweat covering his entire body, thankful that nightmares, no matter how close to reality they really are, will only stay there. But it was also a reminder that his life is a bleak place. No hope, no happiness, no chance for a new-

"_Hey!"_

The voice eats his previous thoughts away and pulls him to the present. He turns around, and his breath stops.

Juliette Ferrars

* * *

><p>His eyes meet hers, and he thinks that he's just put himself in a very dangerous position.<p>

There's anger in her eyes, coated with an undying determination and hope for something... something he doesn't know.

_It's her, _he thinks. _It's really her. _

_Juliette Ferrars. _The girl whom he had once spent his childhood with. The girl who showed him that life was simply more than just what he was experiencing now. She gave him that speck of hope that he always held on to; it was the only thing keeping him sane.

It's the girl he's always dreamt about, on nights when his mind would be at peace.

His first and only love.

His brain is processing so many things at once, turning and shifting into different directions as his mind flashes memory after memory of this young woman who was once a small little girl. That small little girl who always had a smile on her face despite the treatment she had to endure from everyone around her.

(In truth, it had always confused him as to why they feared/hated her. It was an unusual response to such an innocent child. He had spent most of his younger years with her, yet it never really gave him any problems.)

Every dream of her that he had, he would see her standing atop a hill stained with dirt. Her clothes are covered with blood, but he ois made aware by his own mind that it is not her own, and her eyes eyes glisten with something he really couldn't define. Hate? Fear? Pain?

He doesn't really know why he dreams of her, and what she means to him, but he knows that an opportunity such as this mustn't waste itself. 10 years changes a person, and he plans on figuring out how those 10 years have changed her.

He takes a deep breath and lets his feet take him to where the girl he once knew is.

* * *

><p><em>I should kill her<em>, he thinks. _She might be one of the people of Omega Point. If not, then she might just be a hindrance to the task_

_But you won't do that_, his mind says otherwise.

_She's a stranger_, he thinks.

_Yet you're still calling her your first love_, it replies.

_I should kill her._

_Yet,_ it says, _you're already walking towards her. _

* * *

><p>His smile is sincere, any hint of deceit or betrayal undetectable, as he calmly approaches the young woman, both hands tucked in the pocket of his slacks. He watches as she slides her gun back into the holster attached to her belt, her eyes never leaving him.<p>

"Who are you?" She chokes out, and the sudden movement makes her flinch. Her wounds must be more painful than she thought. "What are you doing just standing there? Are you waiting for something or what?"

"Not really, no," he replies, "though I could say the same to you and your _friends_." He glances at the two men beside her. The taller one gives him a nod of acknowledgement and grins — _this person knows who I am_, Warner thinks — while the other just glares at him, as if wanting to shred him to pieces. Warner grins at the dark-haired boy, "I think he's taken a liking to me."

"We," she continues, ignoring her team mate's remark, "are looking for the man who's been destroying the different sectors and murdering the innocent people who lived there." The girl looks around the shredded town, at the soldiers standing several feet behind the man in front of her. It doesn't take her a minute to figure out why they haven't shot her and her team yet. _Not with this person standing in front of us._

"But it seems we've found him."

"Interesting," Warner says, eyes clouded with amusement. "I'm sure you're relieved that my men haven't killed you yet. It's rare chance for a second life, really. You should probably thank me."

_A cocky bastard, isn't he, _she thinks_._ "I should probably not. I'd rather be dead than be given a chance at freedom by a man who killed my friends," she remarks, "I don't like it when people show sympathy towards me just because I was a girl."

"Who said I was?"

"Who said you weren't?" she replied, a smirk forming her lips. She tilts her head slightly, and scans him with her eyes. Such resistance would've gotten her killed, and Kenji and Adam are highly aware of that fact, which is why the two men beside her seem flummoxed; they were not aware of the fact that she and this boy standing in front of her had a sort of history together. The way they talk to each other becomes an unspoken sign of familiarity between them. It's an odd feeling to meet the boy you once spent your childhood days with, especially if that boy was someone who still had a certain place in your heart.

Just looking at him was enough to make her head feel fuzzy.

She coughs. "We should be killing each other right now, defending my home and all..."

"But...?"

"But I think we are already too old to play these kinds of games." She extends her hand to him. "My name is Juliette Ferrars."

"Warner," he replies. He wonders if he's made a mistake, if meeting her again would be good to him or if it'd only be the root cause of his own downfall.

It's been so many years since they parted ways that it was impossible not to notice the slightly stiff atmosphere between them. There are shadows in her eyes that he has never seen before, and it only makes him want to know who this new Juliette Ferrars is.

But what would happen if he let her in? Would she make him open his heart to her again? Would she let him do the same to her?

It's too late for that now, he tells himself. Whatever damage that will befall their encounter has been done, and there is no going back.

He takes her hand and shakes it.

"My name is Aaron Warner, and it's an honor to meet you again, Ms. Ferrars."

* * *

><p>The world ends today.<p>

But this is not about the world.

This is about mistakes.

This is about an uprising that will change the world.

This is about them.

* * *

><p><strong>An: **Hooray! I did something productive for the fandom! Yay! Thank you all so much for the positive review and for never giving up on me even if I'm always usually gone in the fandom. I've been so busy with school and all (third year is a very crucial year) and I'm still trying to catch up with a lot of things right now. I won't be continuing the path this story is taking though =u=

Anyways, thanks a lot for reading! Favourite/follow or review if you have the sudden urge to do so! It's what keeps me going~

Also, I am still planning to rewrite my Ignite Me story; I just haven't had the time to.


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